[Product of a Primal Urge]: 826.Awakening Scourge

Dimaeh Pagonis
Dimaeh Pagonis strode down 1st Avenue, hands tucked into his long, deep blue, navy-issue coat. It was a friend's, lent to him upon his arrival in New York City quite a few years back. Though Dimaeh could handle a weapon with ease, he was not currently in the military and had not ever been stationed in the United States military. That aside, he enjoyed the coat for the practical comfort that it was. The navy made excellent jackets.
The distance of the walk from his apartment in Tudor City down to the occult store near Tompkins Square Park was a long one, a good reason to be snuggled into the navy jacket. The wind was strong today but it did not get through the tight knit of the coat. Picking up his pace, Dimaeh was glad to be one of the only ones out today. He enjoyed walking through the city alone, being able to take the time to weave his way across the sidewalks and stare at anything he wanted. For all the years of his life, New York City still amazed him.
This amazement was coming from a man who had seen the pyramids, had watched gladiators in the ring, and helped tear down the Berlin wall. Still, the towers of New York City were something unto themselves. Perfection all wrapped in metal and glass. Sometimes, when Dimaeh had the pleasure of entering the skyscrapers on business matters, he would make the opportunity of standing at one of the windows and looking out over the rest of the city. It sent vertigo through him nearly every time and it was a feeling he savored.
But here, on the ground, Dimaeh felt miniscule. It was good also. Feeling small amongst the world was good for a man his age, for a man with his knowledge and experience. It's called humility and to keep alive as long as he had, it was an important trait. Glancing up at the sky, he noted where he would have liked blue-sky sat heavy rain clouds. He could feel the hint of humidity nipping at his face and the pressure of soon-to-fall rain pushing in on his senses. It sent a little jolt of excitement through him as the element that lived within him became frisky. On the other hand, it worried him. There was a lot to keep his mind on today and his element aching to be released would certainly distract him.
Heading deeper into the city, crossing into traffic and soon crowds, Dimaeh kept his head held high. He liked to be able to see what was coming. Caution paired up nicely with humility. As a light went to red and traffic screeched to a quick halt, the throng of waiting people pulsed across the intersection. Dimaeh lunged in with them and felt them jostle around one another, occasionally bumping into him. Of course, the caution that made him notice what was around him also had him keeping all valuables tucked into inner pockets near his chest. There was no way a hand was getting to his things without him noticing.
Dimaeh nearly tripped over himself as a woman crossing the opposite direction came into view. He muttered a few apologies as people behind him tripped on him and moved around with some curses. Dimaeh watched the woman draw closer, unawares of his intent stare. She looked so familiar with dark mahogany hair tied up in a messy bun and held with decorated sticks, red-brown eyes darting to the side of the road where the cars sat like a dam waiting to burst, and her clothes neatly put together and business-like. When she was close enough, Dimaeh delved his hand into his jacket and bumped into her softly but purposefully. Gripping her shoulder with one hand and drawing the other from his coat, he slipped a white card into her pocket. "Pardon me, miss."
He let her go and retreated across the street, keeping his back to her and striding off in the direction of the occult shop just around the corner. If she were the person he thought, he'd be hearing from her soon. Perhaps tonight. It was another unnecessary distraction and he was sure to hear about it from Madeline.
Pushing open the heavy, oak wood doors of the occult shop across from Tompkins Square Park, Dimaeh walked in and eased the door shut quietly behind him; or as quietly as the heavy thing would allow. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over his arm. Looking to the left side he eyed the small counter near the back and the woman perched behind a pile of books and loose, old looking papers.
As Dimaeh drew near he could make out the multiple browns and grays threaded through the older woman's hair. She turned watery-gray eyes up at him and smiled widely. "Dimaeh, it has been a while. How are you dear boy?"
"Fine, Madeline. Just fine." He bent across the counter, coat pressing thickly between him and the desk. "Kiss?" he asked turning his face to her and presenting his lightly tanned cheek.
"Of course," she said and leaned across the rest of the way to place a gentle, mothering kiss on his cheek. She pulled back and looked at him, his tall stance, and brooding eyebrows casting shadows over his sea green eyes. "What trouble have you found yourself in this time?"
"Gran'mum, me? Really, trouble you think?" Dimaeh let out a "tssh" of air from his lips and shook his head lightly. "I stay out of as much trouble as I can."
"And yet, trouble follows this family like a lost dog." Madeline lifted a large, yellowed script of tanned hide that acted as a sheet of paper. "Look here, boy. It's that time again."
Dimaeh didn't have to look. He already knew what time it was. "Yes," he said giving the paper a quick glance as appeasement for the old woman. "That's what I'm here about. I'll be checking on you regularly, you know that don't you?"
Madeline tossed the paper down and waved her hand dismissively, mumbling something about being the elder. "Dimaeh, you're as much trouble as your father, you know that?"
"You've said." Dimaeh grabbed a book, flipped through some pages with long violinist's fingers and shut it with a snap. "I think she's here, Gran'mum."
"Hmm?" Madeline asked pulling another tanned hide towards her. "Who dear?"
"Her." Dimaeh folded his arms over his chest, frowning at the book he'd sat down. "Gave her my card, but with rumors and the uh- time that it is, that may have been stupid on my part."
Madeline nodded slowly, eyes still scanning the paper. Her lips were taut and her hands loose on the paper. Dimaeh realized very quickly that she was angry. Madeline had lived this long for good reasons as well. She knew how to keep her temper in check. "She was always your weak spot, Dimaeh. As you are mine."
The man sighed and let his arms fall loosely. "Yeah." He mulled over his thoughts, paced around to take up a seat next to the woman. "Are you going to the council meeting tonight?" He risked a look up at her, expecting a glare at the thought.
"Perhaps. You will go." It wasn't a question, it wasn't a statement- it was a command.
"Yes," Dimaeh said anyway, giving off an air of 'it was his decision'. He shifted in his seat to get a better look at Madeline. "They will not be pleased to see me, I think."
Madeline smiled, turned in her wooden chair and patted Dimaeh's leg affectionately. "No, I would think not. But it is time that the Pagonis' make themselves known once more."
Dimaeh nodded and let his hand move down to cover Madeline's. "Thank you, Gran'mum."
Amelia Bastinados
Amelia Bastinados looked down at the card in her hand, her eyes eating up the letters of the name hungrily. A blaring car horn brought her from her trance and she jumped. Skittering to the sidewalk at the other end of the crosswalk, Amelia turned herself around and couldn't locate the man in the navy blue jacket. He'd disappeared, for all it was worth to her. Safely out of the way of Taxis, Amelia returned her eyes to the card and read for the fifth time, "Timothy Pagonis".
The set up of a more modern name did not throw her off; Amelia knew it was Dimaeh's name and number on the card. Not to mention his work and living address had to be the same. Tudor City was mostly beautiful, upscale, apartment buildings. Tucking the card into the safety of her pants' pocket, Amelia kept going. It was a short walk to her place of work and normally it wasn't all that eventful. She would have to watch her back knowing Dimaeh was back around.
Pushing open the revolving doors of the large building Amelia strode into the lobby. It had a high ceiling with the likeness of Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel painting, the floors were black veined marble with gold trim on each large, square section, and the walls were mostly Roman looking pillars. A large fireplace lively roared with flames in front of a large lounge area off to the right. Again, it held an air of old Roman society as it had low couches and small tables in front of them.
Moving for the front desk where man in a pressed black suit and maroon tie stood keeping watch, Amelia offered him a smile. "Hello Zachary. Nice cold day, isn't it?" she sighed dramatically.
"Yes, we could change that, you know." Zachary gave a leery grin that made him less attractive and reminded Amelia he wasn't her favorite to small-talk with.
"Any messages for me? I know I took longer getting here today." Amelia glanced sidelong at the computer in front of him, the phone next to the computer, and then back to Zachary.
"Ahh…" he puffed out his cheeks, faking thoughts, and looked up at the ceiling. "I remember something…ah, yeah, your father called. Said it was important and to get a hold of you immediately."
Amelia scrambled for her cell phone, worrying that he'd tried to reach her there and she'd somehow missed it. Snatched it up and hitting a button to plunge it to the main screen, Amelia grimaced. She'd missed a call when Dimaeh had run into her. "Perfect. Thanks Zack." Amelia knew he disliked the name and it made her smile to hear him groan. Heels clicking away at the hard floor, Amelia moved to the elevator, deciding this was a call to make in private.
Getting off on the fifth floor, Amelia strode into her office down the long, private hall. Hers was the last of three and the only one with the door shut tightly. Little snippets of phone conversations from the offices of her brothers let her know something was going on. They were discussing the Old Calendar and the Water Families. Damn, she was going to get more than an earful today.
Pushing open her door, Amelia dumped her purse and jacket down in the chair in front of her desk, then went around to her chair and dumped herself in it. She felt frazzled and she felt the Element of fire rippling through her blood agitatedly. Shoving the personal down, she dialed her father's number and held the receiver a little ways from her ear, just in case.
"Amelia?" came the thick baritone of Sicily Bastinados from the other end.
"Yes, sorry. Ran into ah…friend outside early. What is going on, father?" Amelia glanced out of her office window to see rain starting to fall in fat lazy drops from the thick clouds. She sighed, wishing for a blazing sun and warmth.
Sicily murmured a few quick sentences before bellowing out that he had to go, that she should keep an eye out, and talk to her brothers.
"Damn it," Amelia breathed out when her father hung up on her. "Well…" She looked back at her door and picked herself up. Smoothing down her pin-strip skirt and tugging at her black blouse, Amelia made her way out of the office and towards her eldest brother, Michael's office. She rapt her knuckles on the doorframe a few quick times and waited for the 'okay'.
She heard the squeak of Michael's office chair and his gruff voice spoke up, "Come on in, Sis."
Amelia walked in and went straight for a comfy looking chair. "What's going on?"
"Water Elements are gathering tonight. Can you believe the audacity? On all the days of all the years, they're pulling the heads of each family together tonight!" Michael pounded a fist on his desk. "If they think we aren't taking this as an act of aggression, then they're all ignorant. Of course we'd find out." He shook his head and turned his eyes towards Amelia. "Savier and I are calling the heads of our families together as well. Something needs to be done."
"I agree. Should I-"
"No, keep searching for those antiques. That urn will come in handy if events unfold how I think they will." Michael looked behind her, towards the door and gave a grim half smile.
Amelia turned and saw the young of her older brothers grappling the doorframe and leaning inwards. "Mia, you should come to my place tonight." His deep brown eyes held hers until he saw her nod, then they turned up to Michael. "I cannot get Marcus on the line. Work or cell. His wife says he left same time as usual."
Michael grimaced and shook his head. "I know where he is. Call him around two o'clock and fit in something about dropping the blonde."
Savier laughed and nodded. "Sure thing. Pleasure really." He turned back to Amelia and gave her a stern look. "Seriously, my place, Tai take-out, and some good old fashion 'reality' television."
Amelia's smile widened and she nodded ardently. "Yes, I'll be there Savi. Take it down a notch, huh?"
"Sure thing." Savier turned away and disappeared behind his door.
Amelia was a formidable woman; her business was ruthless one at times, and she always came out on top when it counted. Amelia's brothers were worse. Watching Savier saunter away, Amelia was reminded of the past, of his saunter after condemning his wife to death. This war would be a big reminder of the past. It would be a big reminder of the scourge their family endured.
Turning to face Michael, she tilted her head to one side and smiled. "I'd better go find that urn before things get too serious. When is the meeting?"
Michael looked up from the note he'd scribbled before she'd entered the room and blinked a few times, taking a moment to register her question. "Oh, eleven. Gives late comers an hour before things could get serious."
While the rest of the civilized world had left the cosmos as a thing of the past, the Elemental clans thrived on their power and connection. "All right. That should give me plenty of time." Amelia pushed herself up from the chair with both hands and strode from Michael's office to her own.
Picking up the phone she paused, thinking of the card in her pocket. No, now wasn't the time. She had work to do and contacting a water Elemental while this mess was starting was a bad idea. Savier could condemn her as he had condemned his wife, and she had a feeling, Michael would also. Tapping in the number for a dealer she knew in Chelsea, Amelia stared at the desk drawer which held a secret even her brother's didn't know about. Especially her brothers, she corrected.
The taxi drive to the middle of Chelsea took longer than Amelia had anticipated. She checked and rechecked her watch the whole way, drumming nervous fingers on the briefcase. She knew that the nerves she was feeling needed to be dispelled here in the cab, not in front of her dealer.
When the yellow contraption came to a stop, Amelia handed him the cash and bolted from the back seat. Getting onto the sidewalk, she took a moment to straighten everything out and get her brassy attitude about her. Strolling up to the large apartment building she gave a fleeting look to the doorman as waited for some identification. Not just anyone got into this place. Amelia pulled out her card, waved it in front of his face long enough for him to see the family name, "Bastinados" and smiled as he pulled the door open quickly.
"Mr. Carlisle is waiting for you in the bar." He bowed his head and pulled the door wider for her.
Amelia nodded and thanked him quickly before striding with that long gait towards the left of the building where the bar sat tucked away in a slightly darkened private state. Her eyes caught Carlisle sitting, sipping a gin and tonic no doubt, far from the entrance of the little bar-lounge. He was at a table for two, a candle lit prettily in the middle of it. Amelia went first to the bar, ordered a Sherry and pointed towards the table Carlisle was already occupying.
Taking the seat across from him, she laid the briefcase on her left nearly in the middle of them. "Carlisle," she said with a hint of disdain.
"You're looking well, Amelia." Carlisle took the time to sip from his short glass, the ice clinking together as he moved the glass to his lips.
Amelia looked him up and down. His sharp silver eyes were focused on her, his slightly spiked white-blond hair was perfectly placed, and his white button-up was pristine. It stretched over his broad chest, barely hinting at a beater underneath. He looked good, as well. "Mm, thank you. Now, I'm trying to locate that Urn by tonight. Do you actually have it or am I wasting my time. Again." The snide remark was a personal one that stung them both. Amelia tried not to let that show, tried to keep the dominant upper hand in this transaction.
"It's in my possession, but I'm rather loath to let it go so easily." He twirled the glass, eyes straying to the pendant that sat at the hollow of Amelia's neck. "This little- tiff you have going with the Water Elements may seem enclosed and personal, but Earth and Air are wary as well. We're as much compromised as you. There are four clans for a reason. Balance, my dear Amelia."
She sneered and pulled the briefcase closer. "Then I guess we don't have much to talk about. I can see this isn't going to end in anyway beneficial to me."
"Come now." Carlisle frowned at her. "All we shared was beneficial to both of us. That's what a relationship is."
Amelia was about to argue when a waiter came over with her glass of Sherry. She and Carlisle paused, turned to him and thanked him nearly in unison. That made her frown and turn back to argument.
"I remember leaving for a very good reason, Carlisle. Now," Amelia turned the case so she could snap it open. "What are your terms for the purchase of this Urn?"
Carlisle laughed, leaning back in his chair just as Amelia was coming forward in hers. "Really now? Still all business? Well, you won't go for my terms."
Amelia turned her mouth upside down and sucked in a breath through her nose. "Try me."
"Don't use it against the Water clan." Carlisle stared hard back at her with those disconcertingly silver eyes.
"You know exactly how we'll use it and we'll have to. It is the Water clan that is breaking the Code this time, Carlisle. We are only calling together tonight because they are. It's a precaution not an attack. We're on the defense here and having that would be a great advantage." Amelia slowly eased back as the words flowed from her. She could possibly talk sense into the man.
"Then shouldn't I keep it and call together the Air families?" Carlisle took a long, slow drink from his glass. His arm, stretched over the back of his chair, gave him a pose that read 'contemplative'.
Amelia knew he was just messing with her, that he didn't give a rat's behind about joining up with the families that had cast him out. While he knew the benefits of each clan being in tact, he was strictly an outside observer, a loner who played each Clan to his benefit. "And they'd welcome you with open arms, I'm sure."
Carlisle laughed, tipping his head back and carefully placing his glass fully on the table as his body shook with the ripples of his laughter. "Yeah, I suppose you're right," he said pulling himself back up and wiping at mostly imaginary tears from his laugh. "I miss these conversations with you. Most women of the Air Clan are uh, well, forgive me the bad pun, but light headed. Their minds are in the clouds."
She allowed a half smile in the left corner of her lips. "Yes, well, us Fire Elementals are pretty grounded, stubborn."
"Come back to my place tonight, Amelia. Let us catch up on time apart, hmm?" It was Carlisle's turn to lean forward, placing his arms on the table before him. He breathed over the candle, swirling it with his Element playfully. The effect wasn't lost on Amelia.
Her eyes went down to the flame and she brightened it, bringing up to mix with the swirling wind just above it. "No." She sat further back in her chair and let the candle's flame alone. "Savier already has me committed to his place."
"Lucky him." Carlisle blew out a huff of breath that had the candle pucker and extinguish. "The urn is yours, it's in my office upstairs."
"You mean your penthouse?" Amelia glanced upwards at the textured ceiling as if she could see it from there.
Carlisle shrugged, finishing the rest of his drink. "I get all of my business done there. That's why we never fu-"
Amelia coughed loudly, twice, and settled a hard glare on him. "Don't even go there."
Carlisle frowned and stood up. "It's a nice sentiment, if you think about it. You were never business to me, Amelia."
"Yeah, thanks. I appreciate the sentiment then. How about we think of one another as business partners now?" Amelia stood up as well, taking her glass of Sherry with her.
They took the elevator up to the seventh floor; it was a quiet ride thanks to Amelia putting her eyes on the door ahead of her and setting her jaw tightly. Carlisle knew her well enough to know what that look meant coming from her. He remained quiet even when he unlocked the penthouse door and let her in first. Carlisle followed after her, his shoes and hers clicking on the cherry hardwood that ran through the entryway, into the kitchen and main room and cut off at the bedrooms. She went right for the kitchen, perching a hip against the rough-cut granite counter top.
"It's in the backroom, my office. I'll be right back." Carlisle slipped away, pushing open a door on the right and snapping it shut with a short 'click'.
Amelia took the moment alone to look around. Everything was how she remembered it from two years ago. Perhaps a painting or two were different, but most of it was precisely from memory. Carlisle was specific in his changes. Being a man nearly as old as time itself, there were plenty of things he had to adapt to. But once he moved into a specific century, his life remained almost unchanged until time caught up with him once more.
Turning her head when she heard his footsteps returning, she saw Carlisle carrying an Urn about the size of a football. It was beautifully designed, obviously old, but well taken care of. She wondered immediately how long he'd had it in his possession.
"Here you are. Be careful with her, will you? She's…" he looked down at his shoes when Amelia carefully grabbed it. Carlisle stuffed his hands in his pockets and scuffed the toe of his shoe along the hardwood.
Amelia smiled, loving this little piece of Carlisle that she was sure, only she was privileged to. "Yes, of course. It's in my possession, only mine. I handle all of our Clans' artifacts."
Carlisle turned his head back up with a lewd grin, silver eyes back to steel once more. " 'Clans'' huh? You were always so careful with your wording. I think you're giving yourself away there, miss."
"As you are." Amelia grinned, turned on her heel and strode back out of the penthouse, leaving her glass of Sherry on the counter. "Take care of that, will you?" she asked before kicking the door shut.